


Isolation

by crimefightingspida



Series: IronDad Whumptober 2019 [3]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Grief/Mourning, Not A Fix-It, Poor Peter Parker, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Sad, Sad Peter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2021-01-02 04:57:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21155981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimefightingspida/pseuds/crimefightingspida
Summary: an exploration of Peter's grief after Endgame for #whumptober





	Isolation

**Author's Note:**

> I took an interesting approach to this one, straying from my usual "pretend Endgame never happened because f that" universe and instead exploring what Peter may have felt after Tony died. This was hard to write but also kind of therapeutic in a way? I was kind of able to project a little bit of my grief onto Peter and express it in a way I haven't been able to. Please let me know what you think!

Peter’s cell phone lay five feet from where he was sitting in his Spiderman suit on the top of his and May’s apartment building. May had been trying to call him for the past ten minutes. Or at least Peter thought it was May. He didn’t know. He hadn’t moved since he got here two hours ago.

His phone rang again, and again Peter didn’t move to answer it. It rang for a few seconds, then stopped. This time May left a voicemail:

“Peter, honey, I know you don’t want to talk to me, but I’m starting to really worry about you. Please . . . just let me know that you’re safe, okay? Just tell me you’re okay. Please.”

Her voice was thick and wet with worry. Guilt ate Peter’s insides. He should return to his apartment, or at least call May back and tell her that he was okay. Was he okay?

Peter chuckled. He was far from okay. Anything but okay. It was exactly a week after he was snapped back into existence after five years in the Soul Stone. One week exactly from when he watched Tony Stark, genius playboy billionaire philanthropist, beat Thanos with the Infinity Gauntlet then _die_, while Peter stood nearby, helpless to do anything about it.

Iron Man, Peter’s hero since childhood, his _father figure,_ gone forever, and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

Peter thought of his parents. They died long ago in a plane crash, and Peter had only distant memories of them. After they died, he was placed in the care of his aunt and uncle, May and Ben.

Ben became Peter’s father figure when his parents died. They were so close. Ben supported Peter in ways that May or anyone else could not, and he filled the hole in Peter’s life left by his father who was taken too soon, and for that, Peter was eternally grateful. He looked up to Ben and always tried to make him proud. From Ben came Peter’s mantra, “with great power comes great responsibility.”

Ben was gone, too. Shot by a criminal, taken from this world right before Peter’s eyes. That was his fault too - Peter didn’t save him. Couldn’t. And he hadn’t forgiven himself for that. Couldn’t.

Maybe if Peter were better, Ben would still be here.

Then there was Tony. Peter remembered that day when he came home to May in their apartment only to see Tony Stark sitting on his couch. They had gone to Peter’s bedroom where Tony revealed that he knew Peter’s alter ego. From that was born a relationship between the two superheroes wherein Tony would mentor Peter and make his suits and Peter would help out only at Tony’s request and give Happy updates on his patrols as Queens’ Friendly Neighborhood Spiderman.

What neither of them was expecting, though, was that the relationship between them would grow from mentor-and-mentee to friends to father-and-son.

Thinking back on his time with Tony, Peter couldn’t really pinpoint a time where their relationship shifted in that way. Germany, the whole thing with the Ferry, the Vulture, the nights in the lab . . . over time they grew closer together until Thanos took Peter for a while then Tony forever.

Losing his parents was difficult, but Peter got through it. Losing Ben was harder. Excruciating, even, but Peter was getting over it. Why was it that losing Tony hurt so bad?

There was a hole in Peter’s heart that a father figure should fill; that had been filled three times previously. The worst part about this time, Peter realized, was that he didn’t quite realize what it was that he had with Tony until he would never get to experience it again.

No more nights staying up too late messing around in the lab.

No more missions wherein Tony was a little too protective of his protégé.

No more rides in Tony’s cars for no reason at all.

No more jam sessions to AC/DC until Pepper shut it down.

No more guidance with superheroing, or dating, or life, from father to son, from someone who understood Peter in a way no one else could.

No more Tony Stark. Not for the world. Not for Peter.

He is gone.

He’s _gone._

Peter swung his legs that hung over the corner of the building. He should feel something. Why wasn’t he depressed, crying all the time, unable to get out of bed, consumed and choked by the heavy burden of grieving someone he loved, but couldn’t save?

Emptiness. Rawness.

Peter kicked his feet against the side of the building hard. He had to feel something, and happiness was too far off. A jolt of pain shot from his heels to his knees, then died as quickly as it had come.

He stared down at the busy New York street tens of stories below him. How is the world still moving as if their greatest defender was still here?

Across the intersection, a small shrine to Iron Man was set up against a building. A chalk drawing of the hero on the sidewalk was surrounded by flowers and plastic Iron Man masks. That’s how the world knew Tony - as Iron Man, sure, but the Tony Stark that the world knew was the one who frustrated reporters and congressmen and played the ladies and drank until he couldn’t stand, the one who supported a young superhero by giving him a suit.

The world would never have the chance to know the Tony Stark that Peter knew - the one who laughed at science puns, sang karaoke, liked his coffee black, stayed up too late at night in his lab, helped Peter with his homework, remembered his birthday, payed for his dinner, taught him how to change a tire, the one who loved fiercely and protected those who were lucky enough to be the ones he loved.

Not even Peter would get to see the Tony who carried his daughter to bed, teased her, ruffled her hair, took care of her when she was sick, and taught her how to make it through this crazy life.

How was Peter supposed to move on?

Peter wondered if Tony had felt like this after Peter was snapped out of existence by Thanos.

He remembered when he was brought back to life and transported to the final battle with Thanos, five years after the first one. More superheroes fought more villainous creatures than Peter had ever seen or even imagined. He thought of the plan to get the gauntlet to Hope and Scott’s van, and how the gauntlet was passed from superhero to superhero until it eventually got to Peter.

Why the _hell_ didn’t Peter think of snapping himself?

How could he be so selfish as to not be the one to prevent bad things from happening to those he loved who fought alongside him?

_With great power comes great responsibility._

Peter was enhanced, Tony was not. Dr. Hulk survived the snap that brought half of the world’s population back to life, so who’s to say that Peter’s enhancements couldn’t have saved him from the snap that would have killed Thanos and his army?

Peter could have been the one to do it. He _should _have been the one to do it. He owed it to Tony, who had made countless sacrifices on his behalf already.

He had the power, and therefore the responsibility to be the one to snap, but he didn’t do it. He failed Ben, but he was already gone forever before Peter was presented this chance. What was nauseatingly worse was that he failed Tony, the man who would _still be here_ if Peter had only snapped when he had the chance.

Peter watched in silence as still the cars and the people travelled far below him. He stood up on the corner of the roof, then lowered himself to a crouching position, before thoughtlessly letting himself lean forward and fall off the edge.

He didn’t feel scared as he gained speed and fell towards the ground headfirst. If anything, he felt a little bit more weightless, free of the burden of Tony’s death that was _all his fault._

Time didn’t slow down like it does in the movies. After a second or so, Karen’s voice filled Peter’s senses: “Peter, you are falling at an alarming rate. I recommend you shoot a web and pull yourself up.”

Multiple web targets were lit by Peter’s suit and filled his vision.

“Peter, immediate action is recommended.”

“You are nearing the ground at high speeds. Pull yourself up now to prevent injury.”

“PETER!” An alarmed-sounding Karen was interrupted by the sound of Peter’s web shooter then by the crack of his shoulder as Peter pulled himself up a mere 30 feet from the ground below. He pulled himself to the top of a short building nearby as worried citizens called out to him from the sidewalks and streets below.

“Spiderman, are you okay?”

“What happened?”

“I’m detecting a dislocated shoulder, and your heart rate is extremely high. It seems that you are in distress. Should I call Mr. Stark?” offered Karen.

It was like all the air had been sucked from Peter’s lungs and suddenly the weight of the world was back resting on his chest. Tears sprung to Peter’s eyes as he gasped for air.

“Peter, should I call Mr. Stark?”

“Shut up, Karen! Of course you shouldn’t call Mr. Stark, and you know why? Because he’s not there to answer you. He will never answer me or you or anybody else again, Karen. He’s gone. Gone forever. Because of me. And there’s nothing anyone can do to change that! He’s gone!”

Silence.

With his good arm, Peter slowly swung back up to his original place on top of his apartment building. He sat as he cried for another 15 minutes or so until his phone rang again. This time Peter stood up and grabbed his phone from the ledge to see who was calling.

_Pepper Stark._

He couldn’t hold back the sob that racked his entire frame. He covered his mouth with his hand, dropping his phone on the roof below him, as he cried silently for the first time since Tony’s funeral. The phone stopped ringing.

How was Peter supposed to keep living in a world without Tony Stark?


End file.
